


Fireworks

by AliLamba



Category: Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 06:42:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1418714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliLamba/pseuds/AliLamba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Veronica is technically not a virgin, and awkward results ensue. An AU version of LoVe's first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireworks

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into Veronica Mars fiction, and I wrote it because like so many others I felt so robbed the second I saw "You should really consider going pro in that". I'm glad to know now that plenty of other people have written plenty of awesome first-time fics for me to gorge on. Because I'm a fancy lady who likes my fic fancy (and by that I mean totally awkward and cringe-worthy), I'll throw my version into the mix. It does not conform to canon timelines because I am so fancy like that. And yes we're all up to speed fancy means awkward as hell. xoxo

 

Technically, Veronica Mars is not a virgin.

Apart from the dreaded technical _technical_ lack of virginity, which Veronica generally chooses not to dwell on, she’s had a handful of completely sexual encounters with the person she once thought of as the love of her life, Duncan Kane.

_“F.Y.I.? If cuddling’s the best part, he didn’t do it right.”_

Sitting in the back of Mr. Brice’s history class, Veronica cringes at the memory. In part because of the circumstance in which the words were said, and in part because even the partial-truth hurts. But what is a totally inexperienced girl with a solid male role-model ( _thank you darling, doting dad for making me love myself in spite of men everywhere_ ) to do? For all her bravado, there is one arena in which Veronica has no confidence whatsoever: the bedroom.

She figures she should applaud herself for being so self-aware. Yes, a very defensive and proud part of her brain decided long ago that any man lucky enough to see her naked body would get what she damn-well gave and be _mother fucking thankful_ … But in all honesty, the idea that someone could reject her at her absolute most vulnerable is terrifying. Sex with Duncan had been sweet and gentle and satisfying in the sense that she was pretty sure she knew what an orgasm felt like. I mean, it was good at the time, but she is still confused by all these allusions to ‘fireworks’ girls seem to mention with the culmination of intercourse.

And now sex with Logan is on the horizon.

She figured that one out after their last make-out session. She’d cornered him in the parking lot before school and they’d climbed into the backseat of his Xterra for some opportunistic alone time. There had been fondling and groping of Veronica, but when she’d instinctually tried to respond by fondling Logan through his pants…he’d said… “ _Ah!_ ”

For a moment Veronica had been terrified. Then she had felt guilty thinking she might have hurt him. Then she had been confused as to how she _could_ have hurt him. Her wide eyes had glanced at his crotch, and then she had looked back into Logan’s eyes, dumb-founded.

Logan had looked playfully wounded, his heavy breathing and dropped lower lip exposing how turned-on he was.

“Zippers,” he’d explained. “We must always be mindful of zippers.”

At that point Veronica had realized she was supposed to relax, maybe do something confident and playful like demand Logan wear only tear-away clothes as all proper boy toys do… But instead she’d felt…embarrassed. She’d had no idea that zippers could interfere with male erections.

The morning bell had rung as her embarrassment had mounted. After a rueful sigh from Logan, there had been an awkward make-out, smooth-out kiss and make up. Logan had stayed behind to cool down while Veronica made it to class on time.

And now, even into second period, Veronica is still deep in thought about sex.

She chews on her lower lip as her instructor waxes on about the French Revolution. Tests about Louis the XVI she can study for…but she is wondering…can anyone really study for sex?

Naturally, she could finally get around to watching all that porn these young kids keep yodeling on about. But when you share an internet connection with the aforementioned good and decent father-figure in your life, the very same one who potty trained you… There is just no firewall in the world strong enough to make her feel comfortable asking the world wide web for that kind of help.

Logan clearly has the advantage here. His first girlfriend had been _Lilly_ for crying out loud…and Lilly had been like sex wrapped up in a pretty pink bow. A thought suddenly comes to her, and it immediately puts a sour taste in her mouth.

Logan…well, he could potentially be Veronica’s sexual tutor. The idea is obvious, but it conflicts with every self-righteous opinion she has of herself. Honestly she just can’t be so _helpless_ like that. With anyone. The whole idea of letting some man teach her what to do in any circumstance makes her squirm.

Which doesn’t really help her in this scenario. Logan clearly wants to have sex with her. It just goes along with the whole…male parts and female parts in proximity thing. And, frankly, Veronica wants to have sex with Logan too. Again, it goes back to the whole female parts and male parts in proximity thing. Particularly when those male parts are attached to a ripped, thick, sexy hunk of…

“Veronica?”

Veronica jumps in her seat and spins around, finding some pimply-faced freshman politely asking for her attention.

“What?” she shouts, annoyed.

“It’s uh…it’s just you’re in my seat.”

Veronica looks around, and finds a sea of unfamiliar faces. _Right_ , she realizes, gathering her things abashedly. It is third period now.

 

* * *

 

While it does totally bug her that every kid in school seems to know her name by sight and reputation, a different thought preoccupies her mind as Veronica walks to her chemistry class. Logan is in a position to be her sexual mentor, if she can sacrifice enough pride to let him.

The problem with this is the innate submission of power – something she isn’t at all comfortable yielding…to anyone.

Veronica frowns as she takes the seat at her lab table. It is far more appealing to resort to the you-take-what-you-get-or-you-get-nothing-at-all philosophy when it comes to sex with her boyfriend.

The problem with _that_ is Logan’s…apparent…skill. If he didn’t always manage to unclasp her bra in one snap of his fingers, or if he didn’t kiss like a freaking Olympic tongue champion, maybe she wouldn’t feel so self-conscious and critical when alone in the aftermath, reliving their escapades.

Her teeth catch her lower lip again and she chews on it absently. She feels impossibly stuck. And when Veronica Mars feels impossibly stuck she always lets nature take its course* (* _blatant lie_ ).

But what the hell. They are both more or less animals anyway, right? And according to the Nature Channel animals can certainly figure out how to mate on their own.

 

* * *

 

Logan is waiting for her at lunch. She finds him propped against the wall of lockers across from her English room door after the class is dismissed for midday food.

An annoying flush fills her cheeks at the sight of him, especially given the preoccupation of her thoughts the last few hours. Veronica isn’t much of a blusher, so she has the feeling that he can’t see how much blood is in her face. But if he kisses her, the warmth of her skin will surely give her away…

 _Sex_. The word pops into her brain before she can stop it and it stops Veronica in her tracks.

“What,” Logan says casually, sauntering towards her in the way only Logan can. “Did someone steal your milk money?” He leans into her physical space, pinning her to the spot, ensuring that any classmates who follow Veronica into the hallway will have to take a detour around their bodies.

Logan touches her hair and slides a few pieces behind her ear. “Let me take you out. Sushi. My treat.”

Veronica fights to smile thankfully.

 

* * *

 

The spicy tuna rolls take up most of their lunch period, so there are only time for chaste kisses before the final two classes of the school day. Their date had been fun and flirty and Logan had called her beautiful, so Veronica feels borderline confident while conjugating irregular Spanish verbs distractedly amid her peers. She decides that there’s no way she could actually do something wrong to her boyfriend in a sexual way. Her body was made to experience sex, and by every indication it is primed for sex with Logan. She decides that there is no need to be self-conscious or feel inept in any way.

People just figured that shit out.

 

* * *

 

“Ow ow ow ow ow!!”

Logan’s face is red. His eyes are wide and it looks like he is trying really hard not to shove her to the opposite side of the car.

Veronica’s hands spring away from Logan’s crotch. She grimaces, mouth stretched open apologetically and anxious. _What did I do?_

“Too—“ Logan tries to say, his face taught, his eyes now shut tight. “Too hard,” he breathes. “There is delicate equipment down there.”

Veronica looks down at Logan’s lap. It’s hard to see clearly in the limited light, but nothing she sees looks _delicate_. Maybe a little more wilty than before she’d tried to manhandle him ( _poor choice of words_ ), but still. Certainly not delicate.

They were back in the Xterra again, but this time, Logan has the backseats pushed down to make a makeshift trunk bed with some sleeping bags and pillows. They are parked along some deserted part of the PCH, and they can hear the ocean rather than see it.

Logan’s breathing is slowing, and his erection is similarly losing steam.

Veronica doesn’t know where to look or what to do. She knows that men need a refractory period – does that include side effects of unnecessary roughness? And what had actually gone wrong, anyway? Veronica glances down at her hands, and flexes her fingers in the weak moonlight. Is she stronger than she thinks? And isn’t it a known thing that guys like it rough? The tighter the better, right? Veronica tugs her lower lip between her teeth.

“Maybe we just cuddle,” Logan suggests, making Veronica realize that he’s been watching her this whole time. She agrees silently, with a bare glance in his direction, and lies down next to him, facing away from his mixed expression.

Veronica hears Logan collect his _delicacies_ and zip his pants before sliding behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging her into his chest. He breathes in her hair and kisses her cheek so she can feel his contented smile.

“We are quiet this evening,” he whispers. Veronica doesn’t respond. “Quiet and rough.” Logan bites her earlobe gently and settles in behind her, snuggling her close, and breathing her in.

All of a sudden, Veronica nearly feels like crying. How can she be so _bad_ at this? All her enthusiasm, and she is doing it _wrong??_

She tries to think back to coupling with Duncan, and feels immediately guilty for doing so. But hadn’t it been so easy then? A little above the clothes action, a little boob touching, then straight down to business all of the four or five times they’d consciously made love.

Maybe she should just stick to what works. Veronica twists in Logan’s arms to face him. He catches her eyes and holds them, glancing back and forth between each one as if he can discover her mysteries if he looks hard enough. “What are you thinking, Veronica Mars?” he murmurs.

Veronica pushes herself forward, until her lips touch his. She can’t decide what she wants: some sort of release is a priority, sex with Logan comes second, and saving face comes….well, it pervades most aspects of her life. She can _do this_ , damnit!

Kissing becomes deeper faster than she’s anticipated. Her tongue sweeps inside his mouth before he can properly kiss back, and it immediately triggers a response. He tries to push into her but she pushes back, rolling over his body so she can mount him properly and show him how capably sexual she is.

Veronica puts half her mind into kissing Logan’s lips and sucking his tongue, and puts the other half in her hips. She slides down enough to hover her crotch over his, and then she sinks so they are touching through their jeans. She pushes her hips into him, feeling a rush of hormones when she feels something that can only be his returning erection. She pushes her hips in farther, swiveling in a way she imagines is deeply arousing. Logan moans into her mouth and Veronica feels a rush sweep through her. She is doing it! Veronica lets her mouth move on autopilot as she digs even harder into Logan’s crotch, gyrating more seriously now. Veronica Mars can make grown men cream their pants, yes she can! A sound reverberates from Logan’s throat and Veronica can’t help but smile as she bites down onto Logan’s lower lip – hard.

“Yeeeaaaaahhh--- _JESUS CHRIST VERONICA!_ ” Logan bellows, shoving her off deliberately. “ _Are you trying to kill me?!_ ”

He retreats to a seated position, pulling himself up with his legs. One hand is held to his lip (which she can see is leaking a little bit of blood) and the other is gingerly protecting his crotch. “I said it was _too – fucking – hard!_ ”

Guilt like ice water spills down her spine, as Veronica sits immobilized for a moment. Then she is scrambling to the trunk door and throwing it open, clambering toward the road. Only a few cars are out this time of night, but she needs to be out there, among them, and she needs to get away from her boyfriend. She tears blindly across the highway and toward the beach, only barely hearing her name being called out to her from behind. What is she doing? She doesn’t know the first thing about having sex with a man. Yeah, she has cajones, but after all the wasted effort trying so desperately to impress Logan she realizes that she needs to face facts.

Logan is simply…better than her, at this. She cannot match him in this arena, and she needs to stop trying. Her pride aches and revolts inside her chest, attempting to reason that she _is_ a desirous woman and reminding her of the _he gets what he gets_ mantra... What happened to that? Veronica feels too stupid to be proud. She had been so preoccupied with being Logan’s equal that she wasn’t willing to relent to him on anything. _Modern woman_ swims as a phrase in her head, defiantly, but meekly.

Logan catches up with her on the beach.

He grabs her arm and swings her around to face him. One hand is still at his waist, as if guarding his nuts by proximity.

“Veronica!” he shouts, exasperation dripping from his voice. Tears are welled in Veronica’s eyes but she doesn’t let them fall, and she prays that he can’t see them.

“Jeez, so you like it rough, okay? You just…you need to go easy on me. I’m made of softer stuff than that.”

She feels embarrassment burn through her again. How can she say that she wasn’t trying to be rough…she was trying to be…well, she thought he would like it? She thought that’s what she was supposed to do? Suddenly she wishes she was drunk – really drunk – so she could blame this infraction of her pride on something else.

She should really just tell him. It is time to come clean. It’s time to fess up and let him teach her how to handle his parts like he probably already knows how to handle hers. Let him show her fireworks.

“Look—“ she says, immediately deciding to do anything _but_ be honest and do everything she can to protect her limited amount of self-worth, “obviously this isn’t working. It’s not going to work. So if you want someone to fuck so bad then you should go back to that slut Kendall, because from what I could see you must’ve had that down to a science.”

Logan’s mouth hangs open. He totally looks like an idiot, but Veronica’s efforts to withhold any emotionally vulnerable outbursts override empathetic observation for his state of mind.

“It’s just not going to work, Logan!”

She spins away from him again and shoves her fingers into her mouth, clamping her teeth on her fingernails to keep herself from losing it.

A long moment passes while Veronica attempts to salvage some dignity. Then Logan’s warm hand is on her upper arm, and he is ducking into her line of sight.

“Hey,” he says, ever so softly, “we’ll figure it out, okay? It’s new. It’s okay.”

She looks up into his eyes, guilt hanging heavy in her chest and writhing in her belly. But her wounded pride can’t resist the tiny amount of hope inspired by the sweet tone of his voice.

“I just clearly need to practice dipping my balls in ice water or something if I’m going to keep up with you.”

Veronica can’t help it. She laughs. A little. So what if it was more or less a lie; it was funny. Logan’s hand reaches her neck tentatively, and then he rests both wrists against her shoulders so he can cup her face. His thumbs brush against her jaw as he claims her gaze.

“I want you to be happy, Veronica.”

Tears tickle the back of her eyes again, so Veronica blinks fervently a few times and takes a quick glance in all directions. She licks her lips and still feels guilty, and vulnerable, and proud.

“I think I want to go home,” she finally decides.

 

* * *

 

Veronica glances at her phone in the middle of Mrs. Maven’s lecture on anonymous source protection.

 _My balls are blue and ready for you_.

She nearly chokes, her gasp sputtering into a series of coughs that distracts Mrs. Maven’s train of thought. Veronica scans the room and quickly finds Logan essentially leering at her suggestively. She never should have told him her dad was out of town this weekend.

Veronica slips the phone from her bag and sets it just inside her notebook and out of Mrs. Maven’s line of sight. She chews on the inside of her cheek for a moment, trying to decide how to respond. Flirty would be to ask what shade of blue, funny would be to ask whether he could get them dyed to match her eyes. Lewd would be a _pics or it didn’t happen_ response. She mulls it over for a good fifteen seconds in her head but nothing seems right.

Seeing Logan in the corner of her eye, Veronica conspicuously turns her phone over and focuses her attention on the lecture. Two seconds later her phone lights up silently again.

_Is everything okay?_

She makes sure she isn’t seen and quickly taps out a reply.

_Yeah. Y?_

Logan starts typing back immediately.

_Meet me in the bathroom in three minutes. I’ll bring the Kenny G._

A grin splits her cheeks at his joke, and she tries not to watch as he stands and leaves their journalism class.

Things with Logan have been…strange, since the day before yesterday and their interlude on the beach. They passed through the last thirty-six hours mostly through text, as Veronica had pressing work/life duties before her dad’s trip to Las Vegas. She touches her lips absently and makes up her mind to follow Logan.

 

* * *

 

Somehow he’s managed to download some of Kenny G’s trademark saxophone onto his phone, and a muddled version of something smooth and jazzy is playing softly when Veronica slips into the ladies’ room unnoticed five minutes later. She spies Logan’s phone on the counter by the sink after locking the door behind herself.

“I was starting to worry that you weren’t going to come,” Logan admits, before wrapping his arms around her.

She grins because she likes the implications of that insecurity. “And miss some of this sweet sax? Nah uh.”

Logan laughs once, shortly, then smiles and dives in for a kiss. They kiss and kiss and kiss, and then Logan pulls her up onto the sink so she’s resting her ass on its cool, slightly wet surface. She hadn’t even realized he was moving her around the room.

He won’t let her decide whether or not it’s comfortable, as Logan deepens their kisses with open lips and invasive tongue action, and warmth blooms so fast and hard in her pelvis that she couldn’t have decided anyway.

He presses his crotch into hers and she feels how much his desire for her echoes her own for him. She breaks off their kiss with a gasp and lets him kiss the side of her face, and her neck. The fire is so strong and scary inside of her that she moves without thinking, her hand slipping between their combined bodies hungrily. She finds the outline of his erection through his pants and rubs her hand against it as if trying to start a flame in the woods.

She’s barely started a spark before Logan jerks back. His lips are no longer on her shoulder. They are mouthing a pained “Ah – ah – ah!” sound.

Veronica already knows that it’s happened again – she’s done something idiotic and wrong _again_. She looks away and brings a hand to her grimacing, swollen lips. _Delicate equipment_. She doesn’t think he is exaggerating anymore. She feels guilty while listening to Logan trying to calm down.

“Okay,” Logan finally pants. “Hold on. I’m ready.” She looks over at him and catches his eyes. “Okay I’m not,” he says instead. “Ronnie, you’re way too rough.”

Veronica is burning inside now from something completely opposite of desire. She can’t sit still with the way her nerves are tightening within her. Breaking Logan’s eye contact, Veronica hops off the counter and walks away from him until the distance feels safe. Her eyes screw themselves tight as she winces imagining what she probably did to his junk.

“I’m not,” she blurts. Logan doesn’t immediately respond, and she turns to face him after a beat.

“I’m not way too rough,” she clarifies, eyes open, imploring him to be kind to her. “I’m just way not good at this.”

Logan looks confused. “Wait, what?”

Veronica’s hands float to the space on either side of her head, her fingers stretched open as she tries to shake some of her nervous embarrassment out through her fingertips. “I’m just not good at this!”

She notices that Logan instinctually moves a hand to cover his crotch. What she’s telling him is conflicting with his pre-conceived notions, and she can practically see the pieces shoving themselves together in his head.

“But Duncan,” he mumbles stupidly.

“Duncan was nothing!” she cries without thinking. She starts pacing back and forth in the small space available between the row of stalls and the wall. “No,” she shakes her head, “no, he wasn’t nothing, but he was just…you know…neither of us really knew what we were doing. It just wasn’t – like – this.” She doesn’t really know how to continue, and the gestures her hands are making are really proving that point. Suddenly there’s a serious silence in the bathroom, and recognizing it makes Veronica stop pacing. She spins slowly, her fingers tangled together in front of her gut.

Logan is staring off into space, his expression unreadable and completely distant. It confirms all her greatest fears about confiding this to him. He looks dazed, and Veronica is pretty sure he is reliving every single failed attempt at coupling they’d ever had. It makes her writhe in embarrassment and want to die; it makes her want to melt into the oblivion between the tiles in the bathroom floor, seep into the disgusting greywater drain, and float out to sea amidst all the city’s garbage. Then he seems to come to his senses, and his eyes find focus again. He looks into her eyes. He is guarded, but he is sure.

“Meet me at my place, tonight. 9 o’clock.”

 

* * *

 

Veronica breathes in slowly. She holds the air in her lungs and glances up, confirming the number on Logan’s hotel room door. She wishes she hadn’t come. She wishes she had the confidence to just barge right in.

Logan had disappeared quickly after announcing his invitation, grabbing his stuff, giving her a quick kiss and disappearing into the Neptune High School hallway. Veronica had been nervous considering the possibility of facing him again in their journalism class. When she’d finally found the courage to return to Mrs. Maven’s lecture it became quickly apparent that he’d taken the rest of the day off.

She’d been in a haze ever since, her mind consumed by the possibilities of what their meeting could entail. The thought that he might want to mock or break up with her influenced her instincts for waterproof mascara, a boring button-up shirt and worn-in jeans. The thought that he might want to have sex with her prompted her nicest pale blue bra, some vaguely lacy panties, and a quick shave of her legs.

Her brainstem overrides her limbic system and Veronica lets out her breath in a tumultuous exhale.

She knocks on the door.

The fact that Logan opens it mere seconds later implies he was waiting for her. Or banking on her punctuality.

In any case, he certainly knows how to make an impression.

He is grinning at her with welcoming eyes, but Veronica is too distracted by his bare chest. His bare chest and the jersey slacks that hang so low on his waist. The kind she associates with guys playing basketball. Veronica realizes that she is staring, and that her lower lip is sagging. So she pulls herself together and takes a big step inside. “No zippers,” she observes, dropping her bag just inside the door.

“We aim to please,” Logan murmurs, closing the door behind her.

Veronica feels a tickle at the nape of her neck, and she’s pretty sure it’s only there because Logan’s voice all low and sexy like that…well, it just does funny things to her. She stands just inside the door, unsure of where to go next. So far she’s not getting a lot of the “we’re breaking up” vibes, but, hey, stranger things have happened.

Logan puts his arms around her and breathes in the smell of her hair. She’s suddenly glad she washed it after shaving her legs. “You smell nice,” he says, and Veronica offers a tentative smile. “We aim to please,” she mimics. Logan chuckles. He pulls back until he can see into her eyes and stares into hers unabashedly.

“I love you,” he says softly. “You. This is all about you tonight.”

Something deep inside Veronica clenches. She’s nervous – it’s almost like she has stage fright. He wants to sleep with her after all. Suddenly she is very glad for her vaguely lacy underwear.

Logan’s eyes turn animated. He takes a step back and strokes an invisible beard on his chin. “But, education is the key to success. Learn the ways of the force, you must.”

Veronica is too breathless and nervous to do anything but laugh. Logan takes a few steps backward until he reaches the strange double doors hiding his bedroom. He puts his hands behind his back and she imagines him grabbing the doorknobs. “Consider this, World Rocking 101.”

She raises a sarcastic eyebrow at him. “World rocking?”

“Oh baby,” he says, “I’m gonna rock your world.”

Veronica rolls her eyes and shakes her head indulgently, a big grin lifting her cheeks. Logan waggles his eyebrows at her and swings the doors open with a certain amount of flair.

“Item one!” he announces as she enters, “the bedroom. The boudoir. The magic kingdom. Whatever.”

In teen movies the bedrooms are always filled with absurd amounts of candles, or with rose petals strewn everywhere. Duncan had orchestrated a tour of Europe before bringing her to bed.

Logan had folded the sheets.

Ducking around her, Logan moves until he’s next to the bedside table and fixing her with his _why you little minx_ face. He pats the mattress and looks at her implicitly. “In you go,” he directs, his voice maybe a bit too quiet to be completely innocuous. Veronica senses a double meaning in his words. More than into bed…he’s directing to a deeper plane of their relationship. There’s no going back after this.

Veronica decides to play ball. She kicks off her shoes, looking at the pillows sternly, and makes a joking, dramatic leap for the bed. She bounces off the springy mattress, and when she lands again Logan is on top of her, smothering her body.

He’s kissing her affectionately, happily, not like he’s going to surprise her with anything unexpected. In spite of her nerves, Veronica gives in to the normalcy of Logan’s kisses and allows herself to be comforted by the sweetness of him.

She wraps her arms around his neck and gives over to his direction. He’s not going to break up with her. She can go with his flow, because she’s given up on pride. There is nothing worse than admitting weakness; the least she can do now is let Logan make his move. Or moves. His lips are warm, and before long, Veronica feels the familiar stirrings that come with making out with her boyfriend. Their kisses become more fevered, and Veronica’s hands ball against the flesh of Logan’s shoulders, her short fingernails pinching into his warm skin.

The way Logan is kissing back lets her know that he’s feeling it too. This was typically the point where they ventured into dangerous territory.

Logan breaks off their kiss unexpectedly, leaving Veronica more breathless than before. He seems breathless too. “All in good time, my dear,” he murmurs, inhaling sharply though his nose before he drops a sweet kiss on her nose, her chin, her neck, the hollow of her throat…the buttons along her midsection, the button at the top of her jeans…at the apex of her thighs…at the apex of her thighs again…and then down her right leg, to her knee, her shin, her ankle, and her toes.

There is a blurry, messy desire inside of her. When Logan stands she can see that he’s feeling similarly. His pants don’t really leave a lot to the imagination.

“Ah-hem,” he fake coughs, “eyes up here, okay, not a piece of meat.” Veronica considers laughing, because he’s being funny. But she’s too distracted by his body to laugh.

Logan stands at the foot of the big bed, doing what she can only call _fucking her with his eyes_. He claps his hands together ceremoniously.

“Okay, we move on to World Rocking 102. Miss Mars receives top marks in both the Mouth Arts and General Fuckability categories.”

Veronica can’t help it. She bites her lower lip to help temper her giant grin.

“Now you, my dear,” Logan starts, with more _eye fucking_ and waves of his hands to indicate her body. “You have many different _erogenous_ _zones_.” The word sounds practiced, and he starts to point to parts of her body with synchronized hand gestures like flight attendants pointing out emergency exits. “Your lovely face, your lovely neck, your lovely breasts, your lovely groin, your lovely legs, your lovely toes. All could potentially be put to good use. Well, except the toes. I really am no good with toes.” Veronica laughs.

“We boys have just about…one.” Logan directs both hands to his crotch. “Three, if we’re feeling specific.” A mental sketch of Logan’s package come to mind. Apart from feeling him through clothing and barely seeing him in the dark, she didn’t feel well acquainted with the parts of Logan’s body most precious to him.

He pulls down the elastic waistband of his pants, exposing his mat of pubic hair, the base and shaft of his thickened, partially-hard cock. He keeps the head hidden so the whole thing doesn’t _spring into action_ , and the smooth, veiny length of most of him makes drool pool beneath Veronica’s tongue. She’s never really looked at a man’s cock before, and all the lights in the room are on. It looks…delicious. Thick, like she could take a bite out of it if she wanted to. Like it would fill her whole mouth and fit inside of her wonderfully. It looks amazing.

“This is mister Logan,” Logan announces. “Though, we do not name him. We are nice to him.” He sounds like he’s giving a list of rules and Veronica smirks, wanting to make a smart-ass comment about taking notes. “We do not speak to him in baby talk. We do not squeeze him. He is sensitive all over.” He uses his free hand to make a circular gesture, indicating all of the bits and pieces in his crotch. “Any amount of blood down here and clothing becomes very uncomfortable to mister Logan, so we must remember to take especially delicate care of him at those times.”

He digs his free hand into his pants and pulls out his whole cock, palming it gently so the length doesn’t seem like a lot at first. “Skin to skin contact is preferred, and we stroke him gently, like so.” His voice has dropped a few octaves, and Veronica sits entranced. He demonstrates once, then twice, his fist gliding over his length smoothly. His grip pulls gently at the skin covering him. Veronica is squeezing her thighs together so tightly she would have popped a balloon without realizing it. She knows that she should feel stupid and self-conscious, but instead she just feels a burning desire to be excessively intimate with him.

“One day,” he murmurs, he practically purrs, “the two of you will be great friends.”

Veronica tears her eyes away from his dick and looks into his eyes, only slightly confused. “We don’t get to play right now?” she asks.

Logan laughs softly, putting his cock back in his pants and snapping the elastic against his hard stomach. “For now this is only show and tell,” he teases. Logan moves around the room, but Veronica hardly notices what he’s doing. Her eyes are riveted to the slight tenting action of his pants, and she licks her lips in wanting.

His crotch suddenly stands still back at the foot of the bed, making Veronica realize that Logan is ready for their next lesson. She looks up and meets his eyes. He is grinning in that deeply confident and terribly sexy way. She has a feeling he knows exactly what she’s thinking and wanting.

“This,” he says, producing a small cylindrical tube that fits into his palm, “is our dear friend lubricant.

“In a pinch we will use the more _au naturale_ variety of spit,” he adds on an up-tick, holding up his free hand and showing her his empty palm. “And seeing as how desperately I would like to fuck you at most opportunities, we will likely be using much more of the latter than the former.”

Veronica can’t help but crack a smile. He’s acting like he’s giving a presentation in school and trying to get a passing grade.

“Lubricant prevents chaffing (which could lead to redness, coma and death), and generally produces a more pleasurable experience for both parties, as wing-wangs (Latin for _penis_ ) are unwieldy things that do not come pre-lubricated.”

Veronica can’t help it. She laughs. Logan looks relieved, and half his face sags in appreciation. “Scientific studies looking into the matter are still awaiting government funding,” he adds quietly, and Veronica laughs again.

“You,” he murmurs, putting the lubricant down on the comforter and crawling towards her on the bed, “do come pre-lubricated, if handled right.” Veronica’s eyes shine with laughter, but she is quiet now. Logan approaches her, one thing evident on his mind, and Veronica’s mood turns somber, or at least serious. She is taking him seriously now. Unconsciously she bites her lip, as a liquid heat blooms wildly in her pelvis. “But one must know what they are doing to achieve optimal results.”

Veronica pulls her legs up tighter against her abdomen as Logan comes closer. His eyes never stray from hers as he reaches where her legs had been, then where they are now, anchoring his weight on his fists as he propels himself into her space. At the last second his dark eyes leave hers to find her lips, and then he kisses her. Not sweetly, but not fervently either; with the kind of adequate pressure that echoes inside her, building the excitement in her core. She gets swept up in his kiss and the tempo he sets, melting entirely when his tongue touches her fat lower lip with just the faintest of brushes. His tongue tags her mouth again, and she sighs, spreading her lips to ask him to continue.

Logan leans (she can feel it through the mattress but can’t bring herself to open her eyes) so that his weight is supported on his legs. His free hands find her neck, his thumbs catching under her chin and tilting her head to suit his needs. Logan’s tongue pushes inside her mouth, making a broad sweep. She meets his temptation, bringing her tongue to his. His tongue feels rough and slippery, and she loves the sensation of it filling her mouth. She decides to forget what she once read in Cosmo about guys liking it when you bite their lips or suck on their tongue like a vacuum. Instead she just kisses back, totally in the moment with Logan.

Something is happening inside of her, something that she barely recognizes. It is a delicious feeling, but it comes with a desperate need. She cannot name it.

Suddenly, Logan pulls back. His mouth hangs open, and his eyes are closed from what she can see. “Okay,” he pants, “clearly you get that part.” After a breath, he opens his eyes, and refocuses on her. “But we were talking about you.”

Veronica has no idea what she looks like in that moment. Her mind is so fogged by feeling. She pushes forward, trying to reclaim Logan’s lips in another kiss, but he pulls back.

“H-hold on there,” he says, breathlessly, like he doesn’t mean it. He squeezes his eyes tight, and then peeks one open. “Let a man finish.”

Veronica knows she looks confused now. _Finish?_ Finish what? She glances down at his crotch and spies a definite bulge. A renewed surge of warmth rushes through her pelvis, and she fights the urge to reach out and touch him. She looks up to Logan’s eyes, her lower lip between her teeth.

Logan isn’t looking at her. He’s reaching behind Veronica’s head to the huge stack of pillows supporting her back, and before she has time to process what’s going on Logan is pulling them out from under her. She catches herself before she can flop back against the headboard. But then Logan is moving around her body, replacing the void of the pillows behind her. His legs slide along the outside of her hips so she is sitting between his thighs. Their knees almost touch where their legs are bent together, forming a valley for Veronica’s body. Logan adjusts both their weights until they reach something comfortable, and then his nose touches her hairline just behind her ear. He breathes in deeply, and then his mouth replaces the tip of his nose. He kisses with his lips and nips with his teeth along the skin of her neck until she spasms unintentionally. Veronica doesn’t even realize it herself, at first. But Logan does. He attaches his lips to the part of her neck that made her move and kisses savagely, and Veronica has no idea why it feels _so good_. An electricity is spawning through her body, directly from Logan’s mouth to her groin, and she gasps at the sudden roiling amount of tension within her. Then she hears a _pop_.

She looks to the source of the sound and finds Logan’s hands on the buttons of her blouse. His fingers are undoing them one by one along the center of her body, and she can see every new inch of skin he exposes. The assault on her neck and the sight of his hands have her smoldering inside.

Her shirt gives way and falls open, exposing the absolute bare necessities of what constitutes her breasts. The bra she wears is practical and totally not of lingerie standards, but by the way Logan releases a shuddering sigh against her neck at the crux of her shoulder…it seems to do the trick. The idea that he is turned on turns Veronica on even more. She could get right down to business that very moment and be totally satisfied, if not totally orgasmic.

Logan’s hands tremble on the way to the cups of Veronica’s pale blue bra. He pulls them down, exposing her small, taught nipples. Veronica sucks on a sigh and throws her hands behind Logan’s head, tangling them in his hair and bringing his mouth back down to her neck. He kisses her again, more urgent this time, trailing his lips to her ear where he tugs on her earlobe with his teeth. His hands find her breasts and he cups them slowly, his fingers brushing over her nipples in unison.

Veronica jerks violently between Logan’s thighs at the sensation, but Logan doesn’t let go. He suckles her ear lobe as his hands manipulate her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples and then flicking over them in an unpredictable and insanely inflaming rhythm. The heat inside her is molten now. She is pure sensation. The idea that something is missing, something is needed is all she can fathom; all of her obsesses with this build to release. Her hands knot in Logan’s hair and she twists and turns under his hands.

His fingers leave her and stagger down her torso, over her stomach, and to the button at the top of her jeans. She watches mutely as he twists the button free and tugs the zipper down. His fingers slide between cotton and skin at her waist and he pushes the cloth of her jeans and panties over her hips. She tries to help him, pushing with her legs to tilt her hips up, but the sheets are slippery beneath her socks and she falls after the jeans are barely past her ass.

Logan’s breath on her neck is heavy now, labored. She can hear it against his teeth and through his open mouth as his erection pushes into her back. She is totally exposed to him now. Her thighs twist together in some sense of modesty but Logan pins her hips to the bedspread. His left hand keeps her pinned as his right hand slides toward her center. The mat of pubic hair at the apex of her thighs distracts her – should she have trimmed it? Shaved it? Does he like it? Does he care? His fingers glide through thoughtlessly on their way to his goal.

And he touches her. So very intimately. And she completely forgets about hair at all.

The pad of his middle finger finds the innermost folds of her, and he slides along them slowly, top to bottom, bottom to top. His second pass through her folds goes slightly deeper, his fingernail penetrating. He slides so easily against her and she realizes: _lubricated, if handled right_. She is wet between her thighs and Logan has made her so. A shudder rips through her followed by blazing need.

The tip of Logan’s finger finds her clitoris. She knows this because her body sings with the knowledge. Logan’s fingertip circles the spot at the top of her slit so slowly, so casually, her body is nearly combusting with a disastrous need for more. She hears panting and a slow and steady moan, and she’s not sure who it is coming from.

Logan’s thumb replaces his middle finger, slowly dragging through her wetness and then finding her clit, where he makes insufferably lazy passes. His middle finger, already wet, probes again at her opening. Veronica gasps. Logan sinks his finger inside of her.

The penetration of his thick middle finger, the pressure of his thumb against her clitoris, the cool air on her nipples and Logan’s mouth on her neck make her implode from the inside out. Her body jerks ever so slightly as her most interior muscles convulse, the weight of her orgasm flooding her thighs, her torso, and her core.

 

* * *

 

“God, you are so fucking easy.”

Logan’s drawl brings her back to the present. She blinks her eyes open, and realizes she has no concept of the last few minutes. Logan is standing in front of her holding out a glass of water, and she greedily accepts it. Her lips and throat are dry, and she can only guess as to why. After gulping down half the glass, she takes a moment to take stock of her surroundings.

What a mess she makes. Her bra is half off her breasts, pushing them up and out in some ridiculous way. Her jeans and panties are tangled around her knees, and her blouse is unbuttoned and hanging off her shoulders. She is too euphoric to care.

“What can I say,” is all she can manage to retort. Veronica puts the glass on the bedside table and examines Logan, who fares significantly better than her. He’s still dressed in those jersey slacks and no shirt. Logan catches her staring and looks down at himself, before looking back up at her with an almost vulnerable expression. He smiles crookedly, his lips mostly closed, and ambles to the side of the bed. He sits down next to her knees and twists to look at her fully.

“That alright for you?” he murmurs, his voice soft and genuine. It makes Veronica melt with affection.

“Yes,” she says simply, and leans over to kiss him, bringing her arms around his shoulders in a loose, weighted hug.

The kiss quickly deepens, in part for good practice and in part because Veronica’s blood is still singing. She twists around him, putting more of her weight into his lap despite her tangled clothes. Logan pulls back on a sigh. They look at each other for a contented second.

“I think it’s time to make use of what I’ve learned.”

Logan’s eyes widen and his lower lip sags open before he can stop himself. He swallows as Veronica clumsily stands.

“No,” he attempts to protest, but it sounds feeble enough to make Veronica grin. “No, you don’t have to. Tonight’s about you—“

Veronica silences him with a messy kiss. She uses her free hands to slide the clothes from her knees to the ground while coaxing Logan’s lips to distraction. She had received top marks in Mouth Arts after all. Then she leans away, takes a small step back from him, and sheds her blouse. Her arms wind behind her back to the bra clasp at her spine, and though it takes two attempts to unhitch the thing, her bra joins the socks, blouse, jeans and panties on the floor.

She can’t believe she was ever shy of her nakedness. Her body still hums with ultimate pleasure, and in its wake nothing seems to matter as much. Finding her own orgasm makes all this sex stuff seem punitive. You just figure out what makes your partner make noises they wouldn’t otherwise make, and continue. The goal is worth it. It is worth anything. She can’t believe it’s taken her so long to get here.

Logan is looking at her like a dazed, hungry animal, and she takes a small moment to bask in the way he looks at her. Then she takes a small step forward, and sinks to her knees in front of him. She doesn’t even care what she could look like. Veronica Mars, on her knees, in front of a man. It should make her feel small, but instead she feels large and powerful. She feels confident. Logan is already experiencing labored breathing, and he sits immobilized watching her move. She slides her hands up the jersey covering his thighs, settling her weight between his knees. She keeps her head bent and her face hidden from Logan, focusing instead on what she wants to do.

Her fingers find the waistband of Logan’s pants, and she tests the strength of its elastic.  Not very strong. Feeling a burst of willpower within her, Veronica tugs the elastic back and then hooks her fingers inside. Her hands guide the pants down Logan’s hips and she anticipates what comes next. The second Logan’s cock is freed she neglects his clothing and settles her hands smoothly around his shaft. His skin feels warm and velvety soft under her fingers. She is gentle.

Logan is breathing ridiculously above her head. She thinks there’s no way he could be properly oxygenating his brain the way his breath is going in and out of his lungs. She cracks a smug grin that she doesn’t show to him, and then she dips her head, and plants a sweet kiss on the tip of his cock.

“ _Holy shit Veronica_ ,” Logan breathes uncontrollably. The last thing Veronica sees before she closes her eyes are the way Logan’s hands are fisting the comforter.

Veronica opens her lips, spreading them until she is able to completely envelope his width in her mouth. She lets the drool from under her tongue fall past her lips. _Au naturale_. One of her hands glides up his length, soft but firm, until she can feel the wetness she’s made around her mouth. Her fingers slide the saliva gently down, creating a liquid sheath for her to work with.

Her tongue explores the head of Logan’s cock inside her mouth. As predicted, it feels wonderful. She takes another half inch of him past her lips, releasing more wetness from her throat. The wetness is coming from somewhere; it is likely tied to the warmth simmering below her navel.

She suddenly wants all of him. A boldness is lighting her up from inside as she slowly starts to sink her head into Logan’s lap. Her tongue glides effortlessly against the underside of his shaft, her ears half-open to the sounds her boyfriend is making. A viciously erotic sigh is leaving his lips as she descends, and she can feel his presence curling around her. The head of his cock hits the back of her throat. She closes her lips tighter around him as the warmth in her pelvis churns in response. Her loose fists still fit along his shaft beyond her lips, both stacked toward his pubic hair. She imagines that’s relevant, and pictures this part of Logan in her hands and filling her mouth. She moans into his flesh and moves, her lips sliding back up his length, her hands following in their slippery trail. Something about this is turning her on and wildly so.

When her lips are about to leave him she dips again, testing the barest touch of her teeth against his length now. A hiss escapes his mouth and she’s not sure whether it’s good or bad. She sheathes her teeth and pulls back, swirling her tongue where she may or may not have injured him.

Logan’s toes are curling outside of of Veronica’s knees. She can feel tension pulled tight within him, and Logan’s flesh pulses beneath her lips.

It would make her smile to see him so at her mercy if she weren’t otherwise preoccupied. But blowing Logan, working to please him, is having a symbiotic effect on her own libido. She feels a heady pulse between her thighs and a burning readiness within her. It occurs to her while she is using her hands and mouth that this is the ultimate submission of Logan’s power, as she she quite literally has him between her teeth. She almost stops to grin in spite of herself.

Logan stops her instead.

His hands dart out and grip her upper arms, and Veronica is so startled she pulls back from him immediately. _Don’t tell me I hurt you_.

Logan looks like Veronica has never seen him look before. His lower lip is sagged open and she can see the entire bottom row of his perfectly straight teeth. He is panting heavily, his shoulders rising and falling with his effort to breathe. And his eyes…he is having a hard time focusing on her. The typical brown of his stare looks so dark, and so close to black now. She’s anticipating him giving her some sort of instruction and she is cringing inside wondering what she could have done wrong.

“This, Veronica,” Logan suddenly says, and his voice is harsh and forced, “is what it looks like when a man is about to come in your mouth.” Veronica’s eyes widen just a fraction. A swell of heat rocks her core. Logan finally finds her eyes, and she can see how hard he’s trying to concentrate. “And I don’t particularly want to come in your mouth today.”

A tiny voice deep inside her instinct whispers: _blatant lie_.

Veronica smirks inside, and a rush of powerful pride is followed by a rush of desire. She can do this. She wants to do all of it.

Veronica throws herself at Logan’s mouth, forcing their lips together in a savage, hungry kiss. Logan matches her ferociously, lips and tongues clashing. She pushes their naked bodies together and then coerces Logan’s body down, down towards the mattress so she is straddling his waist. Logan wraps one arm around her back and pushes with his hips so that his legs can find some leverage. His free hand and his legs work so that bodies and mouths entwined they scramble up the mattress until they reach the mess of pillows by the headboard. Veronica barely registers what Logan is doing. Her hands are everywhere they can be: gripping his hair, squeezing his shoulders and biceps, exploring the lengths of his arms. Logan’s pulsing erection is fit snuggly between their bodies and she is absorbing all of its sensation.

She can hear Logan ripping open a drawer and groping through it by feel with his free hand. She peeks from the corner of his eye and sees him fish a condom packet from the bedside table. A surge of heat rushes from the middle of her back to her core, and she moans uninhibitedly into his mouth. _Yes_.

Logan’s hands are trembling so bad it’s a miracle he’s able to rip open the foil, but he manages to do it like master chefs crack open eggs: with one hand. Veronica breaks away from their kiss to watch Logan put the condom over his cock, her eyes blazing in aroused wonder. She can’t take her eyes off of him as Logan positions her hips to get the angle just right. He puts a hand to the crux of her thighs to test her wetness, and the minute he touches her they are both aware of how desperately wet she is. Logan makes a noise that nearly pushes Veronica to the brink: it is pure need, and pure need for her alone.

Slowly, Logan guides her hips so that his cock rests at her opening. Veronica throws her head back at the sensation of the head of him against her slit. How wonderful; how fucking amazingly wonderful this feels. She pushes down, just a bit, until he is just inside and testing the size of her. He slips in so easily, and she imagines just how soaking wet she is for him. Veronica sinks her hips down until the inside of her thighs rest against Logan’s hips. Her eyes are closed, as pure sensation fills every nerve. This is _so, fucking_ wonderful. The warm pressure of an approaching orgasm is churning within her pelvis. It is telling her brain _yes, yes, yes, yes, yes_ as Logan fills her completely. She puts a hand on Logan’s chest and pulls herself up, as much as she can on her relatively short thighs. She sinks down again, and this time, all of her breath leaves on a sigh. _Yes. Yes._

She moves again, and again. The pressure inside of her is toying with her now. She is ready to combust at any moment, but she is enjoying the sensation too much to want to give it all up now.

Logan is a mess beneath her. He is bunching the sheets on either side of her knees so fiercely she wonders if they’re torn.

And then suddenly, she is not on top anymore. Her eyes pop open when she feels herself moving, and she only barely registers that Logan is throwing her to the mattress when she finds him suddenly above her. His expression looks so desperate, it very nearly scares her.

“ _God damn it, Veronica_ ,” Logan breathes, and she doesn’t understand why. Their bodies are still connected, and Logan pulls back until he very nearly leaves her. And then he slams himself back in. Veronica’s head flies back on impact. Not just the way Logan is able to push her body around with his hips, but the spike of pleasure he induces. He sets his tempo, and his tempo is murderous. It sends all of her senses flailing. She can barely find anchor with her hands on his shoulders, her fingernails digging into his flesh.

The brink is daunting now. She doesn’t know what’s on the other side. But the pressure is mounting inside of her and there is nothing she can do to stop herself from viciously exploding around him with orgasm.

So she does.

It starts where their bodies combine, and flows into each and every nerve. It goes to her toes, and her fingers, and to the side of her neck. It clouds her ears and makes the inside of her eyelids look more gray than black, as she explodes once, twice, and three times so very deep inside. Her body jolts, and her muscles spasm, and she comes wonderfully around him.

 

* * *

 

 

She doesn’t pass out this time. She is totally aware when Logan climaxes himself so closely after she does, and she wonders absently, so sublimely, if his feels anything similar to hers.

Logan’s breaths finally begin to slow, as his violent open-mouthed breathing turns to measured, slow in- and exhales. His eyes open, and he looks down at her. He looks amazed, and totally replete, and she can’t help but smile when she thinks something about her has brought this change in him.

Is it possible that sex is always this amazing with someone you love?

The word jumps out at her so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that in any other situation Veronica would have stopped to obsess over its meaning ad nauseam. But in this blissful aftermath, all she is capable of is letting the word go, letting it slip from her mind as easily as it slipped in.

Logan leans his weight to his left, gravity dragging his body next to Veronica’s as he disconnects. She doesn’t have the energy to move, and for a long moment Logan doesn’t either.  She has this stupid, resplendent smile on her face as the weight of Logan’s arm hangs across her chest, and she can feel all of his chest hair and the slack muscles of his body against her side.

Finally, Logan groans reluctantly and stands to get rid of the condom. When he returns to her with another glass of cold water, Veronica sits up in bed to accept it.

She drinks like a dying man as Logan takes the space in bed next to her, using the headboard to support his weight. He sits so there is barely an inch between their bodies, but the space unnerves her, and makes her stop drinking. She offers the last bits of water to Logan, but he barely looks at it, setting it on his bedside table absently. He’s staring ahead at the open bedroom doors, into the wide open living space. Veronica follows his stare and finds nothing to look at. Her mind is growing less fogged and more curious as to what Logan could be thinking. Her head tips, and she rests her temple on Logan’s bare shoulder. He turns his chin immediately and kisses her sweetly on her forehead.

She smiles, and sighs quietly. She grows courageous enough to speak.

“That okay for you?” she says, doing her best impression of Logan’s deeper voice.

Logan laughs quietly and turns to kiss her again on the forehead. Then he moves, curving around her body, pushing one arm behind her back, and dragging her down the bed until he can smother her body with his own, kissing her face and neck all over. She squeals with delight and lets him.

“My God, Veronica Mars,” he says, and his voice is awed. “You will be the death of me.”

Veronica rolls her eyes but feel too good about herself to contradict him.

“So what about my final exam?” she purrs, conspiratorially. Logan laughs like he’s amused. “Did I pass?” Lovingly, he looks down at her, his eyes shining with happiness.

“Flying colors,” he says finally, kissing her lips. He kisses her again, longer.

“Fireworks.”


End file.
